


by the hearth

by magumarashi



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst and Feels, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Viera Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), count edmont also shows up briefly but im not tagging him lol, slow makeouts by the hearth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:42:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24561787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magumarashi/pseuds/magumarashi
Summary: Summoned on short notice to Fortemps Manor with the promise of "a surprise," Aoife Asturmaux wonders what Haurchefant could possibly have in store for her this time.
Relationships: Haurchefant Greystone/Warrior of Light
Comments: 1
Kudos: 38





	by the hearth

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place sometime during Heavensward, not entirely sure where exactly it figures in to the timeline but w/e
> 
> For context, my WoL is a Viera. (Her first name is pronounced "Eefa".) I put her backstory on [the Lodestone](https://na.finalfantasyxiv.com/lodestone/character/27819823/) so I won't repeat the whole thing here, but it's relevant to the fic to mention that she was adopted by Elezen parents in Coerthas. To help her blend in, her parents gave her a magic pendant that would glam her to look like an Elezen, and which broke in the fight with the Ultima Weapon. (read: I started w/ the free trial and used the fantasia they give you after praetorium to turn her into a viera, then i guess decided to? use that in her backstory?) anyway. that context is important so i figured I'd put it here
> 
> This follows on from my previous wol/haurchefant fics ([[1]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24188173), [[2]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24313555)) and does make references to both of them, so read those first if you haven't!

_“Lord Haurchefant says he’s got a surprise for you at Fortemps Manor! Ooh, I wonder what it is!”_

That’s what Tataru had said to her at the Forgotten Knight that evening, as Aoife Asturmaux finished up her modest tavern dinner. The Lalafell had come rushing down the stairs as fast as her little legs could carry her, excitement in her eyes, and Aoife had assumed it meant she came bearing news of their missing friends. Though the actual news wasn’t so urgent as that, it made Aoife’s heart flutter all the same. She left payment for the meal on the table and immediately made her way to the Pillars, pulse rushing in her ears.

Aoife couldn’t possibly imagine what he had in store for her; a surprise from Haurchefant was as much a cause for celebration as for concern. The young lord tended toward grandiose shows of affection, and Aoife wasn’t blind to the ways he’d been doting on her since her arrival in Ishgard. The last time he’d seen fit to surprise her, he’d toted a fully grown Ishgardian Chocobo into the Tribunal (and earned himself a stern lecture from the guards). What could he have in mind this time…?

Upon her arrival to the manor, a guard helpfully directed her to the sitting room. Haurchefant was already waiting for her on one of the sofas near the hearth. He stood up as she walked in, beaming.

“Aoife, my friend!” he said. He seemed to have forgone his usual chainmail for a simpler tunic, and Aoife couldn’t help noticing how lanky he seemed without the bulk of his armor. “Thank you for coming by on such short notice.”

“It’s no trouble,” said Aoife, taking a cautious look around the room. There appeared to be nothing out of the ordinary at first glance; if Haurchefant’s surprise was here, it was well-hidden. 

“You must be eager to know why it was I called you out here,” said Haurchefant. Evidently Aoife’s curiosity hadn’t escaped his notice. “Here, come sit by the fire.”

Aoife walked over to join him on the sofa, finally taking notice of the books on the coffee table: there were stacked a number of thick tomes, all with exotic-sounding titles. All of them appeared to be about a singular subject.

“Do you recall, some time ago, when I told you the Holy Archive houses books about Viera?” said Haurchefant, puffing himself up a little. “It took some time, but I finally managed to check a few of them out for you—it seems the demand for books on Viera has grown since your arrival to Ishgard. Anyroad, I thought it might make for an enjoyable evening if we were to flip through them together and share our findings. What say you?”

Aoife nodded to him, at a loss for how else to respond. It wasn’t quite so grandiose a gift as an Ishgardian Chocobo, but it was hard to put to words what it meant to her. Having access to something, anything, that might help her learn more about who she was… 

“I would love to,” she managed to say, finally.

“Excellent,” said Haurchefant. “Please, pick whichever tome you’d like.”

Aoife reached for a book on the table, glancing over the titles once again. The first few folios she tried were ultimately unhelpful: they were novels about imagined adventures with exoticized Viera (all written, of course, by male authors). They had vague titles like “Voyages with Viera” and “The Secrets of Golmore,” so she understood why Haurchefant may have picked them up by mistake. Finally, she decided on a leather-bound tome with a more specific title: “A Comprehensive Study of the Viera, or One Man’s Quest to Enlighten Eorzeans About Their Enchanting and Elusive Neighbors, Volume 1.” It was a title so frank that she couldn’t believe it had been published as-is.

“Eye-catching title, don’t you think?” said Haurchefant. “I found that one to be most informative, despite its age. The author was an Eorzean merchant who had traveled to the Kingdom of Dalmasca for his trade, but became fascinated by the Viera he found living there. He decided to study them so that Eorzeans could learn more about them.”

Aoife opened it up to the first page, where an introduction by the author detailed the origin of his fascination with Viera: not long after arriving to Dalmasca, he witnessed a curious interaction between a well-to-do man about town and a Viera passerby. The wealthy man offered the Viera a great sum of money simply to spend the day with him, that he might be seen in the company of such rare beauty. This interaction piqued the author’s curiosity, and he spent years getting to know the Viera residents of Dalmasca to learn more about what made them so desirable.

“This is… very strange to read,” Aoife murmured to herself. 

“I would imagine so,” said Haurchefant, glancing over her shoulder. “Ah, yes, the anecdote about the wealthy man. I found that particularly eye-opening as well.”

“I can’t imagine being paid just to be _seen_ with someone,” Aoife admitted. “From the sound of things, this practice is common in Dalmasca. I wonder how many Viera live there…”

Aoife kept reading, poring over the interviews and essays that the rest of the book contained. It soon became clear that there was a reason she had seen so few other Viera since leaving Coerthas: the Viera themselves had strict laws about venturing outside their ancestral home, the Golmore Jungle. Once one left the forest, they were considered banished, and would not be allowed to return. Those Viera who chose to leave often took new names and reinvented themselves once they found somewhere to settle down. 

_The Golmore Jungle…?_

The name didn’t sound familiar at all, but when she recalled her earliest memories, she could picture a canopy of green far above her. Sunlight filtering through broad leaves.

_I guess that makes sense… it doesn’t look like anything I’ve seen in Coerthas or Alliance territory._

Further in, the book detailed family structures within Viera tribes: the women and men lived separately, and did not interact other than to reproduce and hand off male children (“kits” was the Viera term for their young) to older males. Female viera formed small communities of hunters and gatherers, training their young both in the arts of war and the ways of the home. Male Viera were born exceptionally rarely, and were said to live most of their lives as solitary forest guardians. When a male kit came of age, he would be taken in by an adult male and trained to live and fight on his own. Many of the interviewees had never even seen an adult male Viera, which led the author to speculate that females exclusively looked to other women to fill their romantic and companionship needs, even among those who had left their villages. 

(A footnote from the editor of a later edition of the text clarified that this claim was a product of the author’s own assumptions, and that it was becoming more common in Dalmasca to see Viera wedding Hyuran men a fulm or two shorter than themselves. Aoife couldn’t help smiling at the mental image.) 

The interviewees were not particularly forthcoming about other details of their culture, as their laws, the “Green Word,” forbade outsiders from learning their ways. Any outsider who ventured into the jungle was to be killed on the spot, which made direct study difficult. The author thus decided to forego a more intensive study of their original culture, and instead turn his lens to how the Viera were adapting to life in Dalmasca and coexisting with other races… 

Having reached the end of the book, Aoife put it down for a moment, her mind swimming with what she’d learned. It was a lot to take in, all at once: the knowledge that her mother had come from a place much further away than she had imagined, with a lifestyle so different from the one she knew. She wondered what had driven her mother to leave the jungle: had she chanced upon an encounter with an outsider, and wanted to learn more about them? Had there been some kind of falling out with others in the village? Or, considering the Viera’s strict laws, had she perhaps wished for a different life for her daughter outside the wood…?

“Aoife?”

She jumped a little at Haurchefant’s voice.

“Are you alright?” he asked. “You had a gloomy look about you.”

“Oh, I’m fine,” said Aoife, smiling to dispel his worry. “All this got me thinking about my mother—my birth mother, I mean. I don’t know much about her.”

“May I ask…?” Hauchefant began. “How old were you, when she…?”

“Only about three or four, I think,” said Aoife. “I don’t actually know when my real nameday is, or how old I am. My mother didn’t have any records with her when she…”

“I see,” said Haurchefant.

“I don’t remember much of her, or my childhood before the Asturmauxes took me in,” Aoife admitted. “I hadn’t given her much thought until now, but reading this makes me wonder what kind of person she was…”

“I’ve no doubt she was a brave woman,” said Haurchefant quietly. “It takes courage to leave the safety of such an insulated community and venture into the unknown—even moreso when there’s no possibility of returning.” 

Aoife nodded to him.

“That’s true…” She smiled. “Thank you, Haurchefant. I’d like to think the same about her.”

Aoife glanced over at what he was reading, and he held it up so that she could see the title: it was the second volume of the book she had been working through.

“Anything interesting in that one?” she asked.

“It’s all been fascinating,” said Haurchefant. “The author discusses what Viera culture is like in Dalmasca, and how they interact with the other races there. They only comprise a small fraction of the population, but it seems they are much beloved by the other residents—in Dalmasca, the Viera are considered exceptionally beautiful.”

Aoife couldn’t even imagine it. Growing up in Coerthas, she’d been called “ugly,” “strange,” and “freakish,” but never beautiful. Her nose was a weird shape. Her ears were gross. Her feet were too big. It had taken her a long time to become comfortable with herself after that. For years she hid behind the spell of her parents’ pendant, afraid to show others who she really was. To hear that in another part of the world, those features it had taken her so long to accept were considered _exceptionally beautiful…_

Aoife wiped her eyes.

“Aoife—?!” Haurchefant started, noticing her tears. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—!”

“You’re fine, you’re fine.” Aoife waved him off with her free hand. “It’s not your fault, it’s just…” She took a deep breath. “After what I went through as a child, hearing that things might have been different had I grown up somewhere else…”

“Here. Come, come,” said Haurchefant, holding his arms out and motioning to her. “There’s no use bottling it all up. It’s clear you could use a shoulder to cry on.”

Aoife scooted forward and buried her face into his shoulder. He gently brought his arms around her, rubbing her back comfortingly. Aoife reached up and grasped at the back of his shirt, twisting the fabric in her hands, and let her tears come without restraint. For long time the two sat together as she wept, and Haurchefant said nothing until he was certain her sobs were beginning to ebb.

“I apologize,” he said softly. “I would never have brought these here, had I known they’d bring you to tears…”

“Don’t apologize,” Aoife answered him, shaking her head against his shirt. “You don’t know how much this meant to me, Haurchefant. Knowing something, anything, about where I came from… Even if it’s hard to hear, it’s so much better than not knowing…”

“… I suppose that’s true,” said Haurchefant. 

“Hearing that there are many more Viera like me out there… That if I’d grown up in Dalmasca I might have been called beautiful instead of ugly…”

“You _are_ beautiful,” Haurchefant quietly assured her. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever had the privilege of knowing—in both character and countenance. I know that just saying so does naught to undo the abuse you’ve endured, but…”

Aoife found herself smiling.

“It does help me feel better, though.”

“And full glad am I to hear it.”

Aoife finally released the back of his shirt, and Haurchefant took that as his cue to unhand her. Aoife sat up, wiping her puffy eyes on the back of her sleeve. She must have looked a right mess, but Haurchefant still gazed at her as though she was the only thing in the world.

“If ever you need a shoulder to cry on, you are always welcome to call on me,” he said, smiling warmly. “And should you need someone to remind you of your beauty when you’re feeling less than your best, look no further. I shall gladly state the truth as many times as you like.”

 _The truth—?!_ Aoife couldn’t help flushing a little. Haurchefant was prone to flowery language and dramatic exaggerations; she knew this by now. But for him to say something like that so plainly had caught her off guard. 

“Ah… thank you,” was all she could manage to say in response. _Why is he like this…?_

The answer suddenly occurred to her.

_Oh. He’s in love with me._

How had she not put it together before now—the grandiose gifts, the heartfelt encouragement? The way his eyes seemed to dance when he saw her smile? She’d always assumed his excitement was no different from the star-struck awe of those who chance to meet the Warrior of Light; by now she was well accustomed to others revering her as a hero. But suddenly all the pieces seemed to have fallen into place, and she realized not only that Haurchefant was in love with her, but that he had been absolutely obvious about it for months. 

_He’s in love with me…!_

“Feeling any better?” Haurchefant asked. “We can stop here for tonight if you’d like; I know you must have much to think about. The scholasticate lends its books out for two weeks at a time, so you’ll have plenty of time to—!”

Aoife wasn’t thinking about the books anymore; in fact, she was barely even listening. The only thing on her mind was how badly she wanted to let Haurchefant know that she felt the same for him—and had for some time now, though she’d lost track of when exactly she started thinking of him that way. Had it been the time he cheered her on before the trial by combat, his infectious enthusiasm giving her the strength to fight with all she had? Had it perhaps been when she first fled back to Coerthas, freshly accused of a murder she did not commit, and he had been waiting for her with warm drinks and open arms? Or could it have been even earlier than that…?

 _I love you, Haurchefant._ It should have been easy to say, but for some reason the words wouldn’t come. How could so few words hope to communicate everything she felt for him?

They couldn’t, she decided, but there was something that could.

She leaned forward and gently laid a kiss on his cheek, cutting him off midsentence. Haurchefant jumped a little at her touch. 

_Wait, what am I doing…?!_

Aoife pulled back, suddenly, putting a hand to her mouth. Haurchefant simply watched her in quiet shock; he lifted a tentative hand to the spot where she’d kissed him. The look in his eyes at that moment was indescribable.

“Oh my twelve—Haurchefant, I am _so_ sorry,” said Aoife quickly. “I should have asked before I just…” She covered her face and looked away, cheeks burning. “Gods, this is embarrassing…”

“Please don’t say that,” said Haurchefant softly. “You’ve done nothing to warrant an apology.”

“I can’t believe I did that. Forget I ever—!”

“I will not,” said Haurchefant, smiling playfully. “How could I possibly forget my first kiss with the woman I love?”

“Ah…!”

_He said it!!! By the twelve, he actually said it!!!_

Aoife’s mind whirled; for a minute or two she could do little but offer a bashful smile in return. 

“Um…” she stammered finally. “You, er… are you sure you want to count that as our first kiss? It was just on the cheek…”

Haurchefant laughed.

“Well, in that case,” he said, “May I trouble you for another, to set the record straight?”

Aoife was all too happy to oblige him. She scooted toward him, close enough that their thighs nearly touched, and leaned in. She was a little nervous, having never shared a kiss with anyone before—what if she did something wrong? What if they bumped noses, or she went in with her eyes closed and missed? 

Haurchefant, for his part, seemed to sense her inexperience. He leaned forward and gently met her lips with his. 

_Soft…!_

Haurchefant’s skin was warm against hers, and softer than she’d expected. Aoife had read about kisses in books, and spotted particularly zealous lovers exchanging them in the corners of taverns, but she couldn’t have imagined what it would feel like to have one herself. To share this kind of intimacy with someone, even briefly… 

The two of them lingered there for a few moments, simply reveling in each other’s closeness. Aoife was almost disappointed when the young lord pulled back to give her space to breathe.

“There,” said Haurchefant, voice low. “Now we have a first kiss for the history books.” 

Aoife nodded to him, smiling. 

“It would be selfish to ask any more of you, but—!” Haurchefant began—but once again, Aoife didn’t let him finish his sentence. She threw caution to the wind and dove in, pressing her lips to his a second time. Haurchefant welcomed the gesture, meeting her with just as much enthusiasm; he reached up and took her head in his hands. It was exhilarating to be this close to him, sharing the same space, the same breaths. She caught a glimpse of him each time she came up for air, and the look in his eyes never failed to make her heart race. She couldn’t help wondering how long he’d wanted this; how many nights he’d spent dreaming a day like this might come… 

“Aoife…” Haurchefant said, quietly; he’d caught her staring at him. “What’s on your mind?”

“Just…” Aoife looked down bashfully. “Wondering how long you’ve been…”

“In love with you?”

“Maybe…”

“It’s hard to say,” Haurchefant admitted. He brought his hands down to rest on her waist. “Whether I was smitten with you at first sight, or whether I only realized how I felt for you later. At the very least, I’ve felt drawn to you for as long as I’ve known you. You…” he took a deep breath, closing his eyes. “You’re nothing short of amazing, Aoife. I must be the luckiest man in the realm, to be able to hold you so…”

“Oh, stop,” said Aoife, giggling. He answered her with a playful kiss on the nose.

“What about you, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“A… while…” said Aoife. “I’m not sure when exactly, either… but, oh!” Suddenly she remembered another of their past interactions. “This was so long ago, but… You remember the night I stayed at Camp Dragonhead, just after fighting Iceheart—I mean, Ysayle?”

“Mm. You were out shivering in the dead of night, if I recall.” 

“You lent me a blanket, and I took it back to my room. It had a peculiar smell about it, unlike anything I’d ever encountered.” Haurchefant raised an eyebrow, to which Aoife quickly added, “N-Not that it was a bad smell! Quite the opposite. It made me feel safe, and at home…” Aoife’s ears drooped slightly, betraying her reluctance to admit something so personal. “This is embarrassing, but I found myself hoping that the scent was yours…”

Haurchefant couldn’t help chuckling at this.

“Well?” he said. “Would you like to confirm it for yourself?”

“Huh?!” 

Haurchefant shifted on the couch so that he could more easily receive her, and held his arms open once more. This time he had no need to say anything more to communicate his intent; Aoife moved to sit in his lap, and he took her into his embrace. She nuzzled against his neck, breathing slowly—half to calm her racing heart, half to confirm whether the scent from before indeed belonged to him. Among the clear notes of clove and ginger (a sure sign he’d applied some sort of balm in preparation for their evening, because of course he had), there was a third scent she didn’t have the words to name. It was homey, familiar… 

“It _was_ you…” Aoife murmured. 

“Mm. The blanket I lent you that night was one of my own.” She snuggled closer to him, and he gave her an affectionate squeeze before resting his chin atop her head. “And I am none too proud to admit my own elation when it came back to me smelling of you.”

Aoife couldn’t contain a snort.

“I thought I was the weird one, so focused on a scent…”

Haurchefant shook his head.

“That makes two of us, my dear.”

Aoife leaned back, and Haurchefant loosened his grip on her—but only for a moment. In the next instant, his hand was on the back of her head, pulling her in for another kiss. Aoife put her hands on his chest to steady herself, noticing the toned build that usually hid beneath layers of chainmail… She wondered what he might look like with nothing else barring her view.

This train of thought was interrupted all too soon, as she felt a tug at her lower lip and realized that Haurchefant was trying something a little more adventurous.

“Ack—!”

“No good, then?”

“No, no, keep going…!”

Haurchefant came back with another kiss, this one deeper than the last. It was all Aoife could do to keep up with him; she threw her arms around his neck and surrendered herself entirely. It was maddening, kissing him like this—sharing the same breaths, losing herself in his touch while the distance between them drew ever smaller. Exhilarating, in a way akin to the feeling of a hard-fought victory. For a moment she caught herself wishing the night would never end… 

Alas, that wish was short-lived.

There came a knock at the parlor door, and Aoife practically launched an Elusive Jump backward in her haste to be out of Haurchefant’s arms before they were discovered. 

“Hm? So you two _are_ still in here.”

The voice belonged to Count Edmont. The door opened, and the count poked his head around to check on them.

“I noticed the lights were still on and thought to come investigate,” he said. “Still up reading, at this hour?”

“At this hour…?” Aoife frowned before scanning the room for a clock—which told her it was well past ten at night. They had been reading (among other things) for far longer than she’d realized. 

“I will be retiring for the night,” said Count Edmont. “You two ought to be off to bed before long as well. There’s much and more to be done tomorrow.”

“We will,” said Haurchefant, with all the finesse of a child who intends to do the opposite once his father’s back is turned.

“I’ll be sure this night owl gets some rest,” said Aoife playfully, indicating toward Haurchefant with her head.

“I should say the same of you!” Haurchefant shot back.

“Alright, alright,” said Count Edmont, fatigue in his voice. “Goodnight, you two.”

“Goodnight, my lord.”

“Goodnight, Count Edmont.”

Satisfied with their response, Count Edmont took his leave, shutting the door behind himself. Aoife and Haurchefant turned to look at each other, waiting for the sound of the count’s footsteps to fade beyond earshot.

“I suppose I should—!” Aoife started to get up, but Haurchefant took hold of her wrist. He looked up at her pleadingly, and for once Aoife had no need to wonder what questions he might be asking with his gaze. She smiled at him. _“We_ should go somewhere more private, I think.”

“My quarters have a door that locks,” Haurchefant offered.

“That sounds perfect.”

The two of them left the books behind in the parlor—they were marked as belonging to the Holy Archive of Worldly Knowledge and Halonic Wisdom, and Haurchefant saw little reason to go to the effort of bringing them back to his quarters. Not when he had something much more important to focus on. He led Aoife by the hand up the stairs and down the hall to the room Count Edmont had reserved for his use. They both tried to keep quiet as they went, but it was hard to contain their excitement; on more than one occasion they giggled and hastily shushed each other like a couple of teenagers sneaking out beneath their parents’ noses. 

Once they were safely inside Haurchefant’s room with the door locked, however, all hope of decorum flew out the window. Aoife pressed up against him and pushed his back to the nearest wall before he could get a word out. He let out a gasp of excitement—clearly unused to being handled so roughly, but eager to see where she was going with this. For her part, Aoife wasn’t sure what she was doing either, but what she did know was that every second she wasn’t kissing him was time wasted. 

Aoife pressed her lips to his, pinning him in place—now it was Haurchefant’s turn to surrender himself, and he did so willingly. He was like putty in her hands; wherever she led, he followed, breathlessly, without question. 

She smiled to herself, laying a meaning kiss in the curve of his neck and listening for the sharp gasp that followed.

_I think I could get used to taking the lead, once in a while._

**Author's Note:**

> Art that goes with this fic can be found [here](https://jewish-anime.tumblr.com/post/617609464113168384/the-realization-that-i-can-just-ship-my-wol-with%22) and [here](https://jewish-anime.tumblr.com/post/618611609991036928/followup-to-my-previous-haurchefant-smooch-post)!  
>  ~~sometimes i write the fic and then draw art for it, sometimes i draw art and then incorporate it into my fic......~~
> 
> The Viera lore in this was sourced from [mirkemenagerie](https://mirkemenagerie.tumblr.com/post/181850817699/the-viera%22) on tumblr, as I haven't unlocked the Ivalice raids yet orz.
> 
>  **Edit 1/10/2021:** I've now done the scholasticate quests and learned that "the scholasticate" is not what ishgard calls its library, so I changed the name to "The Holy Archive of Worldly Knowledge and Halonic Wisdom"


End file.
